Ally
by Haberdashing
Summary: Avarice AU (Demon Stan) fic. Stan makes an unlikely acquaintance after a summons gone sour.


By now, Stan was more disappointed than surprised at the scene around him.

Another day, another summoning, another cult that decided it would be a good idea to use a human sacrifice just to get his attention. Admittedly, that stunt was an effective way to get his attention, alright... they just should have been more careful what they wished for.

He didn't bother with the theatrics this time, with holding back and hearing them out and acting like all was well until he could horribly twist their deal. He just stepped out of the summoning circle they'd thrown together and got straight to teaching them a lesson.

Well, they weren't really the ones who were going to learn this lesson. They weren't going to be around long enough for that. The rest of the world would have to learn on their behalf.

A minute later and the small group that had summoned him had become a chaotic arrangement of limbs, bones, and puddles of blood on the ground. The sacrifice was still in one piece, though. Stan stared down at the body, that of a young college-age woman wearing vibrant lipstick a dark red like the blood pooled around her abdomen. That girl had had her whole life ahead of her- could've had a job, a spouse, a family- but now all that was gone thanks to some idiots who couldn't get it through their thick skulls that killing someone in his name was a bad plan.

As Stan shook his head sadly, he could make out quick, heavy breathing in the background. Someone else was still here, still alive. Not the sacrificed one,-she'd been gone since the moment he arrived- and not any of the cultists he'd seen, since he'd made sure to get rid of every last one (there were only five in the group, so counting them wasn't exactly rocket science).

But in one of the shadowy corners of the room, bound with thick rope and gagged with a blue bandana, a wide-eyed young woman with a dark t-shirt stared right at him as she struggled against her restraints.

She was shivering, Stan noticed as he approached, and though she was squirming and flailing quite energetically against her ties (which were done up nice and tight, one thing the cultists hadn't utterly screwed up), all that she had accomplished was exacerbating her rope burn. Still, couldn't blame her for trying.

Stan snapped his fingers, and the ropes and other constraints vanished into the ether, though the scratches and cuts that they had bestowed upon her remained. The woman looked down to where the ties had been, then back up at Stan, but didn't say a word.

"There ya go, kid. All that junk's out of your way. Now go."

She stood up, still silent, still shaking as she pushed herself off the ground, her gaze lingering on Stan all the while.

"That's it. Shoo." Stan waved her away.

Her steps were unsteady, but the woman managed to stumble her way to the nearest door, glancing back at him as she tightly gripped the door handle and eased the door open.

Before he blipped away, Stan closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose, sighing.

"I could really use a beer right about now."

After a few minutes of decompressing, Stan didn't think much of the incident; it wasn't all that unusual for him at this point. Just another day at work.

But a week later, he arrived at the summons to find a vaguely familiar face, the woman- girl, really, couldn't have been much older than twenty- smiling this time as the two came face to face.

The floor underneath him was sticky, reeking of the cheap beer that had been poured out to summon the demon to this plane.

"You sacrificed booze for me, huh? Not blood or meat or..." Stan waved his hand around in the air. "Whatever?" The girl opened her mouth, but Stan held up a finger and continued before she could respond. "Not complaining, mind you, not at all, it's just... different."

A bead of sweat weaved its way down her face, and he didn't think it was just from the humid air. "I heard you say something about needing beer before. Figured it was worth a shot."

"Before?"

"Last Sunday. When you saved me from those cultists."

And now he remembered, now he could put the face to the memory. This strong, smiling woman was nearly unrecognizable as the girl he'd seen shaking and cowering in a corner back then, but the wounds that still encircled her arms and legs made the connection unmistakable.

"Right. Well." Stan coughed. "What'd you need me for, anyway?"

The girl stared down at her fidgeting hands. "...I just wanted to thank you."

"Wait." Stan held up one hand. "Let me get this straight. You summoned me here just because you wanted to say thanks?"

She laughed nervously. "You saved my life, the least I could do is let you know I appreciate it."

Stan couldn't help but remember that he was the reason she'd been kidnapped, he was the reason her life had been in danger in the first place.

The woman stood up straight and looked Stan in the eye. "So. Um. Thank you. Thank you for letting me go, for sparing me, for, er, stepping in in the first place..."

"No problem. All in a day's work." He paused for a moment. "You do know what a terrible idea this was, right?"

"What?"

"You know, summoning me here. You really should know better, you've seen what could happen..." Stan gave her a pointed stare.

The girl grinned sheepishly, her shoulders slumping. "I know, you're right. But it would've bugged me if I didn't."

The girl had risked her life for a thank you, huh? That was... well. That was certainly something.

"Sure, whatever. Now, if that's really all you got for me-" The candles that lined the circle dimmed as Stan prepared to leave.

"Wait."

Stan raised an eyebrow at the unexpected interruption, the candlelight flaring back up.

"Does... that sort of thing happen often? I'm not the first person you saved, am I? How many others are there?"

Stan opened his mouth to say one thing, thought better of it, and said something else altogether. "What'll you give me to find out?"

The girl hesitated for a long minute before she finally spoke up. "You can have the rest of that six-pack if we can just... talk about it? For like, an hour, maybe?"

"Now, let's be clear. You say 'talk', you don't mean 'pump me for the secrets of the universe', right? Just... a chat?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's all."

Stan didn't need to breathe, but his breath still came out in one prolonged exhale before he responded. "Fine, sure, I'm not gonna turn down the free booze. But not for an hour. Try fifteen minutes."

"Half an hour?"

"Twenty minutes, tops." As he saw the indecision in her eyes and her aura, Stan added, "And that's being generous."

"O-okay."

A quick handshake, a burst of blue fire, and the deal was done.

The woman dug out a six-pack with one ring open from under her bed- jeez, it wasn't even refrigerated, huh? Well, that one was on him for not specifying- and pushed it over to him.

Stan sat down and cracked open one of the cans. "Gonna remind you again that this is a bad plan and if you knew what was good for ya, you'd want me as far away as possible."

"Right, right." The girl sat cross-legged a few feet away from him, clasping her hands in her lap. "So tell me. How many others owe their life to you?"


End file.
